


With or Without a Hitch

by perniciousLizard



Series: Fired Up and Bone Weary [18]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Pacifist Route, reset angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousLizard/pseuds/perniciousLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What kind of family are they, and what kind of family do they want to make?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Grillby was a master of the art of slipping into bed without making any noise, but Sans would still usually wake enough to register that he was there.  Grillby could not help being a glaring light source.  

The bed shifted.  Sans didn’t open his eyes.  He rolled onto his side and lifted one arm up, gesturing at himself.  Grillby obliged him, sliding right up against him.  Sans dropped his arm around Grillby and heard him sigh.  

“night, grillbz,” Sans mumbled.  

Grillby pressed his face against Sans’ chest.  

Sans was already drifting off again when Grillby spoke, hot air against his chest, starting him back awake.  

“Sans?”

“hm?  yeah?”  

“I love you.”  

Sans cracked one eye open.  "you too.  you’re the, uh, light of my life."  He closed it again.  "bad night, huh.”  

“…yes.”

“right.”  He held onto him a little tighter.  Sans wasn’t awake enough to think of anything useful to say.  "quit your job and stay in bed with me."

Grillby laughed, so whatever it was couldn’t be too bad, Sans figured. ”…ok.“

Sans snorted.  He rubbed Grillby’s back and started to nod off again.  

"Sans?”

“mmwhat?”

Grillby didn’t speak again, immediately.  He fussed at Sans’ t-shirt. Finally, he sighed.  "…marry me?"  

"uh.”  Sans tried to look at him, again, but it still hurt his eyes. “sure?”

“Are you joking?”  Grillby’s voice was quiet, and he was very still. “I’m not.”  

“nah. i mean it.  just,” Sans mumbled, “ask me again when i’m awake.”

“Ok. Goodnight, Sans.”  

“night, hot stuff.”  

“…” Grillby shook a little, laughing silently at the nickname.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: There's some angst starting at this point, about resets and kids. If you want to read fluff, skip to the last chapter!

Dread hit Sans the second he woke up, before he remembered the conversation that triggered it.  It sunk in and stayed there, immovable.  Prodding at it made it grow.  He decided to let it be.

His alarm started out quiet, but it was going to be full force in a few seconds.  He started rummaging around for his phone.  Grillby was already pulling his pillow over his head.  If Grillby woke up completely, hours before he had to get up, he would be a pain to deal with all day.  

Even worse, if Sans let Grillby get up now, he’d asks Sans to marry him again.  And this time, it’d be for keeps.  

Sans needed a couple hours to pull himself together before he was ready for that one.  Maybe after a pot of coffee and breakfast with Tori and the kid, he’d be ready to face it.  If not, he could just never come home again and avoid Grillby forever.  Yeah.  Great.  

He switched off the alarm and rolled out of bed.  The pillow stayed on Grillby’s head, but his grip relaxed.  Sans kept an eye on him while he was getting dressed, and snickered to himself when he realized Grillby had fallen back asleep like that.  

He _really_ didn’t want to wake him, so Sans was _very_ careful when he stacked the rest of the pillows on Grillby’s back. Once he’d started, he couldn’t stop himself.  He got the ones off the couch, too.  He decided to stop pushing his luck after that and took a shortcut to Tori’s so he didn’t risk shutting a door too loud.

“Oh!  You appear to be in a fine mood, this morning,” Toriel said.

“goat-morning, tori,” Sans said.  "new record."

"How many, Mr. Funny-bones?”

“nine.  next i’ll have to swipe the ones from paps’ room and then i’m out.”

“You will think of something else to stack on him, I am sure.”  The snailcakes sizzled and Toriel flipped them over.  

Sans got out the syrup.  Frisk wandered in, holding their phone in front of their face.  Sans kept an eye on them, not expecting a fall, but hoping they would miss their chair or do something else funny when they sat down.  They tripped a lot, thanks to yet another human growth spurt, but it was never when they were doing something that seemed to ask for it, like texting Alphys while walking.  

“‘morning, kiddo,” he said.  

Frisk looked up, just for a second, and held up a hand in a solemn greeting.  Whatever they were doing, it must be pretty intense.  Of course, that kid could get intense about anything, couldn’t they?

“They have a test today!”  Toriel said.

“hoo boy.”

“And they… _de-test_ the subject.”  

Sans chuckled.  "hey, frisk, kid, listen to this one.“

Frisk set down their phone.  

"what do the eye doctor and your teacher have in common?”

“Oh!  I believe I know the answer to this one,” Toriel said.  

“they _test pupils_ ,” Sans said.  

Toriel burst out laughing, and Frisk smiled a little.  They were clearly pretty nervous.  

“big day, huh?”

Frisk nodded.  Their phone made a noise, and they sent another quick message out.  

“Well, since it is such a big day…”  Toriel got out a can of whipped cream from the fridge.  "For good luck, my child.“  

"i need that, too,” Sans said.  "hey, kid, let’s both just do our best and if we mess up, it’s not that huge a deal, right?“

"Well, I would prefer you not encourage them to fail, but it would not be the end of the world, of course,” Toriel said.  "What is big about your day, I wonder?"

"well.” Sans regretted mentioning it.  He needed to make something up that sounded real, and quick.  He looked at Frisk, and they had such an intense look on their face, he knew he had no chance.  They’d see right through him.  They’d nag him the whole trip to school.  "think gz’s got something planned." 

"Oh?  Is that all you are going to say?  Should we play 'hot or cold?’ That does seem like an appropriate choice of games.”  

“i mean i’m just going to answer hot every guess.  he messes up the gauge.”  

Toriel set out the pancakes and Frisk grabbed a couple, coated them in syrup, and then slathered them both with whipped cream.  Food distracted everyone from asking questions.  That didn’t last.

Frisk brought it up again on the walk to school, just like Sans guessed they would.  

“hey, kiddo, you’ve got your own stuff right now.  no need to go butting in on mine.”  Sans shrugged.  "you know, dating is weird.  like, see how my shoelace is just doing its own thing there, and it’s not a big deal?  if i trip on it, it’s my own problem.  but if grillbz was here, he’d ask me to _tie the knot_."  

Frisk stopped walking.  

"yeah, i know, that’s none of his business, right?  but i guess i’m in deep enough that it doesn’t seem like a bad idea to go along, anymore.”  He stopped walking, too.  His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. “if you’re already in this deep, might as well take the plunge, right? anyway, pal, i never said anything about shoelaces.  or plunging.  people might get the wrong idea, and then you’d be pretty embarrassed.”  

Frisk grabbed his sleeve.  They looked pretty excited.  

“i mean it, kid.  i never said anything.”  

They nodded and asked him if he was pretty sure he was going to say yes.  

“probably.”

Breakfast had chased away the dread, for a while, but now it was back in full force.  Sans figured once he bit the bullet, the idea of it would settle and he’d be okay again.  

He spent the rest of the walk to school trying to convince the kid to buy a good luck charm off of him for fifty bucks.  

“yeah, you tie the shoelace around your wrist like a bracelet and you’ll get an A, guaranteed.  unless you don’t.  but that just means you used up the luck someplace else – like maybe a bus was about to run you down, but it didn’t.  the luck’s pretty powerful, but it’s a one time deal. sixty bucks.”  

Frisk turned down the generous offer.  

Sans had a lot of places he could go, other than home, but he convinced himself it would be better to get the stress over with.  And now there was a kid he’d be disappointing, right?  


	3. Chapter 3

Grillby was in the kitchen when Sans got back, making his own breakfast.  His fire was going off in its own directions, forgetting it was supposed to have form.  Grillby hadn’t managed a lot of sleep.  

“you look like you should still be in bed,” Sans said.    

“…good morning, Sans,” Grillby said.  He turned and stared at him, blank, for a second, and then seemed to pull himself together.  

“hey.”

“I was covered in pillows,” he said.  He reached under his glasses and tried to rub the sleep away.  

“the couch ones, too?  when paps sees ‘em gone it’s going to really rattle his bones.”  

“Sans.”

“you make enough for me?”  Sans asked.

“You are being annoying on purpose,” Grillby said.

“i mean, yeah.”  

“…yes, there is enough for you.  I would say we could sit and eat on the couch, but most of the couch is on the bedroom floor.”

“let’s go in there.”  

He was a little surprised when Grillby agreed.  He suggested a couple more times that Grillby go back to bed, since he didn’t seem like he was at the top of his game, but Grillby didn’t even bother responding.  

The couch cushions were still on the floor, but the regular pillows had been moved back on the bed.  Sans hopped up and Grillby handed him the plates and sat down next to him.  He immediately rested his head on Sans’ shoulder. 

“look, i know 'the show must go on.’  that saying’s about running a bar, right?  but you’re beat.”

“I have tomorrow off,” Grillby said.  "I’ll make it up."

"i’m starting to think you weren’t in your right state of mind last night,” Sans said.  

“I meant it.”  

“sure.  but i drank a full pot of coffee to wake up enough for that talk, and now you’re the one who’s too asleep to have it.”

“Sorry.  Marry me?”

“we both have to be awake.  sorry.  hey, you never told me what put you in such a bad mood last night.”  

“…I know.”  

“ok.”

Grillby’d talk about it if it needed talking about, eventually.  Sans appreciated it, since he wasn't quite so great at that.  He finished his second breakfast and Grillby went off to work.  Frisk managed some intense interrogation on the walk home from school, but Sans had nothing to say other than “it’s on hold until everyone gets a long nap, kid.”  

He was up and raiding the fridge when Grillby came in, his normal time. He barely managed a greeting, heading straight past Sans towards the bedroom.  Had he grabbed anything to eat?  Grillby normally waited for dinner until after closing.

Sans went into the bedroom to double-check, but his boyfriend was facedown in bed.  His tie and shoes were off and on the floor, but he was otherwise still in his work clothes.  Grillby carried the smell of fried food and smoke with him.  

“night, grillbz,” Sans said, patting Grillby’s back.  

“…we’ll talk about it……tomorrow,” he promised.  He barely moved.

“k. whenever.”  

“……..tomorrow.”

Sans thought he might have said something else, but he couldn’t understand it.  Maybe it was “good night,” so he left Grillby to rest.

–

Grillby didn’t emerge from the bedroom until late afternoon.  Sans sat at the kitchen table, tying paper napkins together, and wondering if Grillby was coming down with something.  

“Sans.” Grillby sat across from him.  

“hey. you eat anything?” Sans asked.  

Grillby ran his hand through the flames on the top of his head and got up, without a word.  He made himself breakfast.  Sans figured he was either sick, or nervous.  If he was nervous, that was kind of a relief.  Sans didn’t want to be the only one.  

A few minutes later, Grillby sat back down with a full plate.  "Sans,“ he started, again.  He noticed the napkins, seemed to lose his train of thought, and then visibly forced himself back on track.

"yeah?”

“…you aren’t…too busy to discuss it now?”  

“sure. if you’re feeling up to it.”  If Grillby was sick, Sans wondered if he could catch it.  

“I’m fine.”  He waved a hand, dismissive.  "…you don’t seem very…excited…about getting married.  It’s all right if you turn me down.  If you want to stay like this, it’s fine. But…we should discuss it either way.“  

That was a pretty big speech, for him.  "ok.  here’s where i am.” Sans tied the last napkin to the first one, and hung it around his neck.  Nice.  "i want to be married, but thinking about getting hitched tires me out."  There was another problem, too, and he wasn’t looking forward to bringing it up.  The extra day of thinking about getting married, and what that meant, had made him decide to do it anyway.    

Grillby stared at his new necklace.  "I assumed I would be doing most of the actual work.  Me and…”

“and papyrus, yeah.”  

“I would like to have…some kind of ceremony,” Grillby said.  "It wouldn’t have to be big." 

"sure it would.  you aren’t thinking it through.  if we had a thing, how many people would you want to invite?  there are a lot of people i’d feel bad leaving out, too.  so unless we elope, it’s probably be, uh, fifty guests minimum.  months of lead-up time.  i mean, it’ll be fine once it happens, sure.  i like a good party.  but you can’t blame me for not really getting revved up about all that effort.”  

“If you don’t want to do it, then I don’t want to force you,” Grillby said, irritated.  

“only thing you’re trying to force here is how i feel about it,” Sans said.  “look.  this is besides the point.”  He leaned forward. “giving me yesterday to think about it gave me a chance to remember the big reason you won’t want this.  i should’ve brought it up before we moved in, but…” he shrugged.  He sure did hate doing stuff he had to do.  

“…the reason _I_ won’t?”

He decided to just say it.  "kind’ve gotten the impression you’re a guy who wants kids, someday."  He saw the warm way Grillby looked at him, whenever Sans was taking care of Frisk.  And now he got to see the exact moment Grillby realized why he was mentioning kids out of nowhere.  It hurt to look at, so Sans turned his attention to the table.  

”…you don’t want children.“  Was that resignation in Grillby’s voice?  What was he resigned about?  Not having kids, or having to end this because he wanted them too much?  Yeah, Sans should’ve brought it up a long time ago.  Maybe he should’ve stopped things himself, the hundredth time he’d caught Grillby wistfully watching parents with their infant monsters.  

It’d be easiest to just go along with it and say he just didn’t want 'em, but he was hurting Grillby enough with this that maybe he’d try to at least make him understand.  "one way or another, i can’t have 'em.”  Before everything had gotten messed up, kids had been kind of a thing he’d looked forward to. He’d help bring down the barrier, and then there’d be a few munchkins running around on the surface that would need someone to keep an eye socket on 'em.  He’d changed a lot from when he was the guy who looked forward to that. 

“…can’t?  I thought we might adopt because of your health, but…”

“that doesn’t make a difference.  i’m not talking, uh, whether we can make one or not.  a little bundle of joy and, uh, fire.  i just can’t get attached to a kid like that.  be responsible for 'em.”  He shrugged.

“You are one of Frisk’s legal guardians,” Grillby pointed out, like Sans knew he would.  "And you partially raised your brother."

"yeah.”  He wanted to get up and leave.  Doing that a year ago probably would’ve saved Grillby some trouble.  "it kind of sucks, sorry.  it’d just mess me up if anything happened to 'em.“  

"That would mess up anyone.”

He’d wake up in Snowdin, one day.  Grillby would be his friend, but a stranger compared to how he was now.  He’d accepted that.  Sans had tried to make sure he wouldn’t even know they’d ever been anything other than pals.  But if he guessed it, like how he’d woken up this timeline and had to check that Papyrus was still around, like he’d just known immediately that his brother must’ve died last time, he’d deal with it.  It would hurt like hell, but oh well.  Papyrus, Tori, Grillby, Alphys – they’d all be there after a reset, even if everyone stopped getting to be happy up on the surface.

Kids were different.  They’d go from existing to _never_ existing.  It’d be worse if he took a part in making 'em, but adopting and taking responsibility for anyone born on the surface would mess him up, too.  If he figured out that he had once had kids, that there were these people he made and cared for, and now they were never even going to get to be born–

How low could his HP get, without him falling down?  How much could he handle thinking about this, even in this timeline, without messing himself up, permanently?

Doing something that he knew would make him have a nervous breakdown wasn’t fair to Papyrus, or any of his friends.  Sans was always enough of a pain for him to deal with after a reset.  None of this was exactly fair to Sans, either, but he was pretty resigned to that.  

“yeah.  but that would probably be it for me,” Sans said, shrugging.  "sorry.“

Grillby didn’t say anything, immediately, and Sans wasn’t going to look at him to try and guess what he was thinking.  His eye sockets felt hot, but he was going to ignore that, too.  He just wanted this done.  

Grillby reached across the table and touched his hand.  ”…are you…ok?"

"uh. not really.”  He’d forgotten, for a second, that even if it didn’t work out – even if _this was why_ it didn’t work out – Grillby cared about him. Sans had been selfish not bringing this up earlier, sure, but no one was going to hold a grudge.

Grillby sighed.  "Well.  I probably shouldn’t have assumed that you would want to have them."  There was pain in the way his voice crackled.  

Sans looked up.  "ok. i get it.  this is a big deal.  you’ve got a kind of family you want, and you should go for it.”  He wanted Grillby to get to have that.  Of course, Sans was pretty selfish and he hoped Grillby had that in some _other_ timeline, but if it had to be this one, Sans would get over it.  

“Sans, I…I really would like children,” he admitted.  "But I only assumed we would have them because…you looked like you wanted them.  So I…planned.  Imagined what it would be like.  But that was…a part of the life I thought I was having with you.  Breaking up with you so I could have children with someone else would…defeat the purpose?"

Sans noticed his own hand was shaking, and couldn’t make it stop.  Grillby squeezed it, tight, but he was made of so little that instead of the pressure increasing, Sans’ bones just felt hot.  "i guess.”  

Neither of them said anything, for a minute.  Grillby let go of his hand and stood up.  Sans watched him  walk around the table.  He stood over Sans, silent, and then leaned down and kissed him.  

“ok,” Sans said.  "so, uh, guess i brought the mood down."  

Grillby shook his head.  He nudged Sans’ chair out a little, and then slipped in and settled on his lap.

"you here for a hug?”

He nodded.  

It wasn’t a comfortable position, even if a guy made of fire weighed less than a guy made of, say, ice or metal.  Plus, the size difference made the odds pretty good Grillby would slide right off if Sans so much as shifted.  

Sans put his arms around Grillby’s waist to try and stave off disaster.  

His paper necklace ignited and was gone in an instant.  Sans snorted, and they both started to laugh.  

“you owe me 39.97,” Sans said.  

“……for that?”

“sure.  materials are, say, thirty cents plus labor plus sales tax – you should know this better than me, grillbz.”  

“…how much do you charge for labor?”

“it’s gotta be worth my time, buddy.  some human friend of the kid’s wanted magic armor from a real monster, and guess what i am.”  

“…you’re charging forty dollars for a paper necklace.”  

“i know, i know, but they’re a kid so i thought i’d give ‘em a break. ”  He paused.  "maybe you should give my femur one of those breaks before it  _get_ _s_ one of those.“  

Grillby nodded and started to stand, but: "…you actually have to let go, first."

"huh.  that doesn’t sound right.”  

“…”

Sans sighed.  "welp.  guess my crush’ll get me crushed.“  

"…that was awful.“  

"love’s not what it’s cracked up to be.  'cause it’ll be cracked down, on my legs.”

Grillby put his hand on the back of Sans’ head, and pressed Sans’ face against his warm chest.  If Grillby thought that was going to make him stop, well – he was probably right.  Sans closed his eyes.  

“who needs legs anyway,” he mumbled.  "overrated, right?  slugs get around all right.“  

Grillby was quiet.  Sans eventually let him get up.  

"so anyway,” Sans said.  "if you still want to get married, despite all that,“  He waved his hand at all of that, almost dismissive, "i dunno.  i’m pretty _wedded_ to the idea.”  He got out some new, uncharred napkins.  

“…the way you said that was so romantic…how could I change my mind?” Grillby asked.  He looked fond, and the kitchen felt a little warm.  

“you say 'nah;’ that’s how you do it,” Sans said.  

“…no. It’s impossible.  I’m accepting it,” he decided.  "We can figure out the details later."

"thanks.”  Sans was exhausted, like he had dodged a bunch of attacks in a row.  He hadn’t even moved from his chair.  "and sorry.  i’m kind of worn out.  you got someplace to be, today?"

"I rescheduled my appointments yesterday.”  Grillby looked a little bit tired, yet, himself.  

“heh.  that’s what i like to hear.  i’m a good influence.”

Grillby nodded.  They took a nap together until dinner.  


	4. Chapter 4

The puppy barked excitedly on the other side of the door to Dogaressa and Dogamy’s apartment.  Grillby rang the doorbell as a formality.  

“[Grillby! Grillby!  Grillby!  Grillby!]” The puppy jumped up against the door until Dogamy opened it for them.  The puppy sniffed at the closed tupperware container filled with homemade kibble in Grillby’s hands.  

He walked inside.  "…I brought…a treat.  For…"

The puppy started running around him in circles.  

"I hope you brought some for me, too,” Dogamy said, sniffing.  

“(Don’t leave me out!)” Dogaressa called from another room.  

“……there is plenty.”  

The puppy whined and nudged their head against Grillby’s leg.  

“He isn’t dumping it on the floor for you!  Wait until I get a bowl.”  He hurried out.

“(Good puppies eat out of a bowl!)”  Dogaressa came in and sniffed the side of Grillby’s face in greeting.  "(Oh!  We have news!)"

"We haven’t told you yet!”  Dogamy yelled from the kitchen.  

“……should I guess?”

Dogamy walked back into the room, carrying a stack of bowls.  "We’re having another puppy!"

”(We’re having another puppy!)“

”[Puppy!]“

Grillby wasn’t surprised in the slightest, but he feigned it to make them happy.  They had been hinting for months that they were thinking about having one.  ”…congratulations!“  He would have to bring something a little more special than kibble the next time he visited.  

Dogamy and Dogaressa nuzzled noses and he paid attention to the puppy so he wouldn’t have to awkwardly watch.  He patted them on the head.  

”[Pets!]“

”…are you excited about a new puppy?“  He doubted they understood what was going on.

They nodded.  ”[Kibble?]“

Dogamy remembered he was carrying bowls, and the puppy forgot Grillby existed once they had their dish.  

The smell of food made Endogeny come creeping out into the room from their bedroom.  They dripped happiness froth and curled up on the floor.  

”…I also have news,“ Grillby said.  "…but…do you promise not to tell anyone, yet?"

"No one will sniff it off us,” Dogamy said.  

“(Not even if they pet us!)”  

“Speak for yourself.”

“(You first!)”

Grillby nodded.  "…I am getting married."  He was pretty sure. Most likely.  "……..maybe."

"Congratulations!”

“(Congratulations, maybe…?)”  

“…Sans is…”  

Dogamy nodded.  "Sans is…“

"(…Sans.)"

They all nodded, in agreement.  Dogamy got up to get them drinks to celebrate everything that was worth celebrating.  

”(Married!  It feels like you have been together forever, but it hasn’t been that long yet, has it?)"

He shook his head.  

”(A pile of bones to call your own.  How romantic…)"  Dogaressa considered her bowl.  "(He should come over sometimes!  My top dog misses his petting, when he doesn’t visit.)"

"…I will mention it."

Dogamy came back, arms full of bottles and glasses.  The puppy tried to trip him, but guard training came in handy and he navigated around with ease.  

They were celebrating engagements and new puppies.  Grillby felt a brief ache every time they mentioned their new monster.  His flames dipped lower and he told them he was too tired to stay long.  He supposed that he had been imagining the Dogi eventually having a puppy around the same age as the one he had been imagining him and Sans having, and that they would be friends.  He had gotten too far ahead of himself, and now he had to pay for it.  

He left early.  Who could he talk about this with?  Sans was out of the question.  The last thing Grillby wanted was to make him feel guilty.  His mother was also out of the question.  If he said "I do not want children,” she would not mind.  She would not know how to take “I’m upset about something I can’t change.”  She would suggest he talk to Sans again, or reconsider the relationship, or any number of things when what he wanted was to be upset.  His brother would probably shrug and tell him that kids could be a pain, anyway.

He called his oldest sibling, but they never answered their phone.  He would probably hear from them in a few days.  

So many of his old friends were scattered all over the surface.  In New Snowdin, in other cities, in places he did not even know about.  

He remembered sitting at his grandmother’s feet, long before she fell down.  He would have thought to call her before anyone else.  

_“Believe me, you can’t press your feelings down until they disappear.  What happens when you apply heat to something under pressure?”_

She told him to apologize to the other child he had hurt, and the next time he was upset, to not let it build up until it seemed uncontrollable.  She told him to recognize, accept, and work through what he was feeling.  

Grillby wondered what she would have thought of the surface.  If he didn't have anyone to talk to, he would just remember her, and her advice.  

Back home, Sans was still out.  Grillby found Papyrus in the kitchen.  Papyrus’ skull was stuck all the way in the fridge, and there was a bucket with chemical-smelling rags next to him.  Food was out all over the counters.  He scrubbed like he was trying to scour a hole in the bottom of the refrigerator.  

“…Papyrus,” Grillby said.  

Papyrus jumped, banging his head on one of the shelves.  "OW!  ARE YOU PRACTICING YOUR SNEAK ATTACKS?  I DID NOT KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU, TO SURPRISE THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

"…sorry.  Are you all right?"

"OF COURSE!”  He stood up, rubbing the back of his head.  "THIS REFRIGERATOR WILL NOT DEFEAT ME.“  

Grillby nodded.  

Papyrus squinted at him.  "WOWIE!  YOU LOOK HORRIBLE!  DID IT START RAINING?”  

“…why is all the food out?”  Some of it was human food, and it would go bad.  

“ARE YOU SICK?  SANS SAID HE THOUGHT YOU WERE GETTING SICK, AND IF YOU WERE, I SHOULD PERSUADE YOU NOT TO OPEN THE BAR.  HE MADE FINGER QUOTES AROUND THE WORD PERSUADE.  DO I NEED TO FINGER QUOTES PERSUADE YOU FROM WORKING WHILE YOU ARE ILL?”  

“…how long has this food been out?  …a few minutes?”  Grillby backed towards the door, not wanting his natural heat to speed up his food going bad.  

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?  YOU ARE CORRECT THAT FLEEING IS YOUR BEST CHANCE AGAINST ME, BUT I DO NOT RECOMMEND IT.  ALL ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE WILL BE FUTILE.”

“……what?” Grillby actually looked at him.  

“YOU ARE ACTING VERY STRANGE!  YOU MUST BE ILL!  THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!”  

He should have been paying attention.  He took another step back. “…I’m not sick…”  

“YOU ARE DROOPING!  YOU ARE LACKING CONCENTRATION!  YOU APPEAR UNINTERESTED IN THE INTERESTING THINGS I AM SAYING!  YOU SHOULD BE IN BED!”  

“…” Maybe he could run for it.  Except Papyrus had trained for the royal guard, and Grillby was a bartender.  "…it’s a bad mood."

Papyrus was suspicious.  "A BAD MOOD CAN ALSO BE AN ILLNESS.”

“…not this one.  Do you want help putting the food back?” he asked, now that Papyrus seemed to be listening to him.  

“YOU SHOULD NOT BE HANDLING FOOD IF YOU ARE ILL!”  Papyrus was advancing.  

Maybe he _was_ getting ill, because he was definitely getting a headache.  "The only thing making me sick is this conversation,“ he snapped.  "Finish your cleaning and put the human food away before it goes bad, Papyrus.”  

There was a long pause while Papyrus tried to understand what he just said. When it sunk in, he gasped.  "GRILLBY!“  

”…leave me alone,“ he said.    

Papyrus grabbed Grillby’s shoulders.  "IF EVEN CONVERSATION IS MAKING YOU FEEL BAD, YOU SHOULD SIT DOWN!”  He directed Grillby to one of the kitchen chairs and set him down in it.  "STAY THERE!  I WILL PROVIDE YOU WITH SOMETHING TO DRI – TO EAT!“  

Grillby dropped his head in his arms.  If he looked so miserable, at least it was Papyrus who had seen him before he got himself together, and not Sans.  Sans would have known immediately what was bugging him. "…there’s nothing wrong," he told the table.  "…I heard some good news, and was…jealous."

"OH!   THAT’S CHILDISH,” Papyrus said.  "BE HAPPY FOR THEM!  WHAT WAS IT?  DID THEY TAKE A BATH, AND YOU COULDN’T?  EVEN THOUGH YOU’VE NEVER SHOWERED AND YOU CONSTANTLY GIVE OFF SMOKE, I PROMISE YOU ARE VERY CLEAN."

He shuddered, thinking about people submerging themselves in water on purpose.  "…no.  I am not jealous of that."  He considered trying to explain himself to Papyrus.  Would it get back to Sans, what he was upset about?  The brothers never seemed to tell each other things, even if they were important, if they thought the other brother would worry about it.  

Grillby heard a plate clink down on the table in front of him.  He looked up, wary.  The noodles looked harmless.  

"I KNOW WE HAVE NOT HAD TIME TO HANG OUT LATELY,” Papyrus said, “BUT EVEN IF WE HAVE NOT MAXIMIZED OUR LEVELS OR FINISHED ANY OPTIONAL FRIENDSHIP SIDEQUESTS, WE ARE VERY GOOD FRIENDS.”  

“…I asked you to live with me.”  

“YES! THAT IS NOT UNLOCKED AS AN OPTION UNTIL VERY FAR ALONG!  SO YOU CAN BE SPECIFIC WHEN YOU TELL ME WHAT IS BOTHERING YOU.”

“……ok.  Dogaressa and Dogamy are having another puppy.”

“IF YOU WOULD LIKE A DOG, THERE WAS ONE THAT KEPT HANGING AROUND ME FOR A LONG TIME.  I WONDER WHERE HE WENT?”

“…that’s not–”

“OH! YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT.”  Papyrus turned a kitchen chair around and sat down on it, leaning forward on the back of it.  "GRILLBY, MAYBE IF YOU ARE JEALOUS OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT, IS TIME TO REORGANIZE YOUR PRIORITIES AND START THINKING ABOUT WHAT A GREAT UNCLE I WOULD BE.“

Grillby laughed, behind his hand.  ”…I’m aware."  He stood up and got a bottle out of the liquor cabinet.  He poured himself a drink. ”…but it isn’t going to happen.“  He sat back down.  

"I AM SURE THAT WHATEVER IS IN YOUR WAY, YOU CAN FIGURE OUT A WAY AROUND IT?”

He shook his head.  "…your brother….can’t.“  He shouldn’t just tell Papyrus that.  ”…he told me it would be too much for him." 

Papyrus frowned, thinking.  "IT IS POSSIBLE HE IS JUST BEING HIMSELF, AND HE WILL CHANGE HIS MIND.”  

“…I don’t want to…change his mind,” Grillby said, saying each word with great care.  "…I don’t even want him to know I am still upset."

"I SEE,” Papyrus said.  "I UNDERSTAND AND I THINK I HAVE THE SOLUTION."  He folded his hands together.  

”…yes?“

"IT SOUNDS LIKE THE PROBLEM IS HOW YOU ARE FEELING, AND NOT ACTUALLY ANYTHING MY BROTHER DID.  SO WHAT IS REQUIRED TO CURE BAD FEELINGS IS A WARM HUG FROM THE MASTER OF THEM!  AND THAT MASTER, CONVENIENTLY FOR YOU, IS ME!” 

“…is that right?”  

“IF YOU DO NOT FEEL EVEN A TINY BIT BETTER, THEN–” He didn’t seem sure what to do, for a second, as if it had not occurred to Papyrus until that second that it could not work.  "– THEN WE WILL HAVE TO TRY SOMETHING ELSE!  BUT OF COURSE IT WILL HELP!“  

Grillby nodded.  He braced himself.  Some of Papyrus’ hugs could knock down a brick wall.  

But he just wrapped his bony arms around Grillby and held him gently. There had been a feeling like something pinching at Grillby’s soul, and he didn’t notice it had been there until, just like that, it was gone.  

"…ok," he said, sighing.  "………thank you, Papyrus."  For not trying to change the way things were, more than anything else.  

"ANY TIME!  YOU ONLY HAVE TO ASK, AND I WILL BE THERE!”  

“…I know.”

Grillby wondered how Papyrus felt about having a brother-in-law.  They weren’t ready to tell Papyrus about that possibility, yet.  

He also wondered what Papyrus would think if he knew Grillby already thought of him as family.  He told him.  Papyrus cried.  


	5. Chapter 5

The door barely creaked as it opened.  Sans usually left one light on out of laziness, but they were all still on, and his phone was sitting on the pillow next to him.  He snored.  

Grillby leaned down and moved the phone over to the nightstand before he climbed into bed.  

Sans sighed, gently, and opened one of his eyes.  "night.“  He wiped at his mouth and then rolled onto his stomach, planting his face flat on the pillow.  

Grillby rested his hand on Sans’ shoulder blade.  This was the first time he had seen Sans all day, since he’d briefly woken up when Sans got up to have breakfast with Toriel.  That was the way it went, sometimes, when Sans was doing other things and didn’t stop at the bar.  

He traced down Sans’ spine, and watched him twitch, once, and then relax.  Grillby settled himself down next to him.  

"paps said he thinks you caught something,” Sans mumbled.  "just throw me out on the couch when it gets bad."

"…I’m not sick."

"ok.”

Grillby was exhausted, but now that he was in bed, he couldn’t sleep.  His head felt cloudy, probably from stress.  He propped himself up on an elbow and tried to decide if it was going to be worth trying to fall asleep, or if he should give up and get some work done.  

“c'mere and relax,” Sans said.  He lifted his arm up and dropped it down again.  "i bed you’d feel pretty good if you cot some sleep.“

"…shush," Grillby said.  He shifted over.

Sans put his head on Grillby’s chest.  "think i just figured out my theme song.”

“Oh?”

“ _bed_ to the _bone_.”  He snickered.  

“That’s the one that goes…?”  He tried humming the guitar part he remembered.

“aw, nice.  sing me a lullaby, grillbz.”

“…that is all i know of that song.”  

“well, sing that part again.”  

“…you aren’t the one who needs help sleeping.”

“ok. so i should sing something?  let me think up something good.”  

Grillby covered Sans’ mouth with his hand.  

Sans snorted.  "everyone’s a critic.“  Grillby wasn’t pressing enough to actually stop him from talking.  

"i’m sure your singing voice is as lovely as your brother’s.”  Whenever Papyrus took his shower, the whole neighborhood got to enjoy a concert.  Grillby let Sans decide if he meant that as a compliment.

After a little while, he moved his hand onto the top of Sans’ skull.  “Sans.  Are you going right back to sleep?” he asked.  It would be nice to have company while he was awake.

“nah.  feel like giving up and seeing what’s on tv?”  

“…maybe. In a minute.”  

Sans looked up at him.  "maybe we can work together and figure out something to do right here, to pass the time."

"You really are wide awake.”

“eh.  as much as i ever am, i guess.”  He exerted himself enough to roll over so he was on Grillby’s stomach, chin on his chest, legs between his legs.  

“…hello.”

“hey.”

He settled his hand on Sans’ back.  "…can we talk?"  

"uhoh. what’d i do?”  He was joking, but worry flashed across his face.

“…do you remember what you said?  How you would like to be married, but weren’t looking forward to…”

“all the work, yeah.  but i dunno.  knocked a load off my back when we went over that, uh, other thing.  kind’ve looking forward to it, now.”

Grillby nodded.  "…but whatever we end up doing as far as the ceremony goes, I think we should get married right away."

"what.”  Sans stared at him.  "like, right this second?“

"There’s paperwork.  And…finding someone to actually marry us.”  

“sure, i guess so.”  His expression barely changed, but something in his eyes made him look like he was frowning.  "but i mean, when you get down to it, we don’t actually need that, either.  we could just go ‘hey, nice, we’re married now,’ maybe do some little on the spot ritual."

Grillby nodded.  "Ok.”

“what?  c'mon.  you want all that other stuff.”

“Yes. But I want _this_ , right _now_.”  He found Sans’ hand and grasped it.  

“seriously?”

“I love you.”  He felt Sans’ hand twitch.  He should say it more, if it still surprised him.  "That isn’t going to change.  You live with me.  I think of your brother as part of my family.  We already are family, you and me, in…a hundred ways, aren’t we?  But, I want to actually be your husband.  I want you to look at me and know that about me.“

Sans blinked a few times, a little fast.  He coughed, or pretended to, and pressed his face against Grillby’s shirt.  "god.  i’m always just going along, and then you’ll come out with something like that.  you never give a guy a break.”  He sniffed and looked back up.  “ok.”  

“…really?”

“yeah.   i mean.  whatever you want from me, you’ve got it.”

“……”

“ok.  i mean.  within reason, here.  uh.  it getting kind of hot in here?”

“…oh. Sorry.”  He was getting a little out of control if his heat was getting to a skeleton.  

Sans reached up with his free hand, and touched the side of Grillby’s face.  "so.  how are we doing this?"

"…here."  He drew up the hand he was clinging to and kissed it.  "It just needs to be a promise.”  

“heh. i’m not a huge fan of those, but that’s all right.”  He tugged himself free and sat up, shifting so his knees were on either side of Grillby.  He pressed his hand against Grillby’s chest.

Grillby felt a light tug, in his soul.  He reached up and imitated Sans’ gesture, over his bare ribcage.  He tried to think of something to say.  

“let’s run this one to the end, grillby,” Sans said.  "i’ll be here for you, whatever that means.  promise."

"However you need me, that’s what I want to give you.  I’ll take care of you, Sans.  For as long as I can.  I promise.”  

“ok.”  Sans closed his eyes.  "ok."

Grillby sat up enough so that they were face to face.  Sans, still kneeling, pressed their chests together.   Grillby’s soul burned hot, under Sans’ cold hand.

He kissed Sans, sealing their promise.  Sans reached up and touched the back of his neck.  

"oh, him?” Sans asked, suddenly, briefly baffling.  "that guy’s my husband, grillbz.“  He rested his head on Grillby’s shoulder. "heh.  i like the way that sounds.”  

Grillby nodded.  He started to say something, but paused.  His train of thought was lost.  Sans looked up, waiting.

Grillby sneezed, flooding the room with harmless orange flame.  He started to say something else, but sneezed again, instead.  

“ok.  you caught something.  told you.”  

“That…that didn’t mean anything,” Grillby said.  "I’m not sick."

"yeah, sure.”  

“I’m completely…completely…”  

“and here’s the next one.”

Grillby started to cough.  When it subsided, he finished his sentence. “…fine.”  

“look, i love you, grillbz, but if you sneeze on me again i’m sleeping on the couch.”  

“…that’s fair.”  

Sans laughed.  

“Though it was only a minute ago you told me you would be _here_ for me.”  His throat hurt.  

“i’ll be here for you on the couch.  maybe with a couple snack breaks in the kitchen.”  

“Obviously, there are going to be snack breaks in this marriage.”  

“heh.”  Sans looked him over.  "hey, i got it.  you know what you’re going to do?  you said you’d take care of me, right?  you’re going to do that by not going to work tomorrow.  because, guess what, pal?   you’re sick.  that’d be a real nice thing you could do for me.“

"…"

"got it?”

Grillby sighed, and nodded.  

“the sun’s coming up and you haven’t slept yet, anyway.”  

Grillby looked over at the window.  Light was starting to filter in through the curtains.  Just like it did every morning, since they reached the surface.  It felt different, somehow.  


End file.
